


Leaving His Love

by LissaDream



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-06-28 01:40:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15697542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LissaDream/pseuds/LissaDream
Summary: He thought the only way for her to fly was to let her go. Never had he been so wrong.Interact with me!:Lissa’s: https://www.facebook.com/lissadean.27





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **UPDATE 8/15/2018:** I have had so many people beg me for more of this story, that I have actually taken the time and thought in order to expand it. It will no longer be a one-shot.
> 
> Now, it's unfortunately NOT written yet. BUT, I do have it outlined as a five part short story. I have also done a thorough edit on this first chapter. Nothing was changed plot-wise, but it's cleaner and makes a little bit more sense and will flow into the rest of the story.
> 
> Now, as for an update. Darlings, I have no idea. As I write this, Snowblind12 and I are focusing on finishing up ...After Happily Ever After (SS/HG), then we will move to A World Not Fit to Live In (LM/DM/HG). After that we will begin work on book two of the Master Mine Series (HG/Multi Partners) entitled "Master Mine: A Lesson in Love". (Book one is completed and is up.)
> 
> I thank you for your patience and appreciate every read, fav, follow, kudo, vote, and comment more than you could ever know. xxx Lissa

 

Snape felt sick, but this was the only way he could get her to understand that she was too good for him. He needed to set her free. He refused to hold her down, keep her back. He wanted her to fly as he knew she could. He would forever be a Death Eater, no matter that his name had been cleared. No matter that she was a big part of the reason he wasn't mindless from a Dementor's Kiss with his empty shell left rotting in some god-forsaken cell in Azkaban. He refused to subject her to the ridicule that would follow him until the end of his days. She deserved better than that; he loved her too much to be selfish enough to keep her.

But he would never forget her, that he vowed to himself. She would be the last thing he thought of before drifting into the nightmares that would haunt his unfathomable soul each night for the rest of his miserable life. She had made him human again, and he could live with the pain of her loss if it meant she would be rid of the dark looks and whispers that followed them wherever they went. By doing this, he would rid her of the barricades in her way because she was with him. In time, she would have come to see this for herself; that he wasn't worth it. Be it in six months, five years, ten, twenty – who knew. What he did know was that _he_ couldn't get in any deeper. If he did, he would never have the strength to do this. To leave.

To free her, he had to shatter her. To shatter her, he would have to do the one thing he knew she'd never be able to forgive.

His eyes roamed the scene surrounding him. She was out with her friends tonight, something she had done very infrequently since they had become involved over a year ago. His mind strayed to that fateful day. She had been covered in dust and dirt, her hair piled in a messy, unruly bun on top of her head. They had both volunteered their services to work in the scorched, but shockingly still functioning Room of Requirement. The help for that unremarkable Tuesday afternoon had been limited, and they had been alone. They spent a few hours sifting through The Room of Hidden Things, putting out smoking piles of ash with water charms and disappearing the never-ending piles of garbage and debris.

They had worked in silence until she had collapsed. It had terrified him – why, he hadn't been sure. She had looked awful, he knew she wasn't well. Exhausted beyond comprehension. She had been a skeleton of her former self; her skin as translucent as smoked glass. There were dark circles under her eyes, hair dull and lank, brown eyes haunted and lifeless. He knew the horrors she and those insufferable friends of hers had endured. He had volunteered to work with her simply because he had guessed something like this would happen. He felt that perhaps the terror had come from deep down, where he knew this incredible woman-child he had been trying to keep alive for the last seven years of her life lived in his non-existent heart.

If he had been honest with himself, he would have realized he had come to care for that entire class. You can't fight to keep people alive for years on end and not get attached. She was his favorite by far, though. Brilliant, snarky, observant, funny (though he would never admit that), and – as she grew – beautiful, kind, thoughtful, and forgiving. Of course, he was the only one who knew he felt that way.

He had spent the next fortnight by her bedside at St. Mungo's. She had been very wary of him for the first few days, but as he continued to sit stoically by her bed stead, administering conversation and making sure she didn't overdo herself, he felt the change between them. It was subtle, like ripples the wind made on a pond. Suddenly, he was the first one she looked for when she opened her eyes. He overheard Mediwitches rumbling about how he only went home to sleep at night. That he rarely left her side. The rumors of an affair started long before they had actually become lovers.

It was well into the summer, after she had failed to return her parents to their home. After she had moved into Grimmuld Place with Potter, but a couple of weeks before term was to start. Weasley, Potter, and Hermione would be going back to Hogwarts; as was he. Them to finish the year they had missed; him to return to his old position as a Potions Master. She had invited him for dinner. He brought her a bouquet of summer wildflowers as a hostess gift. He had been anticipating a group of people, but would never put off one of her invitations no matter how uncomfortable crowds made him. She was the first witch in almost two decades who held his attention. She could spar with him blow by blow on almost any subject and the ones she couldn't, she would research and debate with him during their next visit. She was an excitable intellect that drove him mad. Rarely did they agree completely on things – but their debates boiled with academia that made him long to pull her in his arms and fuck his point of view into her.

He knew his inappropriate desire for her had started the moment she collapsed in front of him and it had grown to a titillating tantrum of longing to claim her as his own.

She had been wearing a cotton green sun dress with a silver vine pattern on it that had clung to every curve of her body – a body that had steadily regained its curves as the summer had continued – and tied behind her neck while the sweetheart neckline had given off just a hint of cleavage that encouraged his imagination to run rampant. It had shocked him, because she was always dressing very practically in jeans and baggy tee shirts or jumpers or button-down shirts. Things that effectively hid her form - where the dress had been utterly revealing and enticing.

He never mentioned that he was astonished to find her alone. She never came out and said it was a date. They dinned in the garden she had repaired that summer, amongst the strong smell of late summer roses and lily of the valley. When he had told her that he best be going – long after the sun had set, and the stars sparkled above their heads in a celestial dance that had twinkled for hours – she had looked utterly crestfallen. Then, a breath-taking look of brilliant determination had swept over her face; she had taken three long strides into his startled arms and kissed him soundly on his mouth.

To say he had been surprise would have been the largest understatement of his life. It had felt as if someone had stunned him off a broom - all the air leaving his lungs like he had landed from said fall on the flat of his back.

She had clung to him, her fingers twisted into the fabric of his shirt, kissing his surprised lips for what had felt like an eternity before he had the sense to wrap his arms around her and kiss her back with all the passion she brought out in him. She had melted into him like chocolate in a cauldron, whispering his name over and over again as he had feathered her face in sweet, tender kisses. He had carried her up the stairs and they had loved each other mindlessly with their mouths for what felt like an eternity. After hours whispered conversations, desire and longing; of him telling her why he should not be her fist and her convincing him why he should, he had slipped into her folds as the sun made its appearance over the horizon, casting her beautiful face in golden tendrils of light as she came apart beneath him for the first time, sobbing his name in ecstatic wonder and joy.

He knew he loved her then.

It had taken him another few months to tell her. Terrified of how she would react. They had been upfront with Minerva about their relationship. Because of this, McGonagall had Hermione take a self-study potions course with him as mentor, instead of a teacher. She stated that as Hermione was more than of age to make her own decisions, and there were no rules at the school against consenting relationships; they would be allowed to see each other as long as she was not his student. They had both agreed willingly to the change in her curriculum.

They were able to keep their relationship private until Christmastime. In light of the defeat of the Dark Lord, there was a large Yuletide ball. He had insisted they attend together. She had been giddy with her happy yes of excitement. They decided to just let people react to them being together as the only people who knew of their relationship were McGonagall, Weasley, Potter, and the Weasley girl.

It had not gone over as well as she had hoped. Many people were shocked to the point of utter rudeness. It hadn't surprised him in the least, but the wounded look on Hermione's face had been enough to break his heart. He thought for sure she would leave him then; that she would realize she was too good for him. Instead, she had whispered tearfully in his ear after dinner was over that they should go. He agreed, and they had left together with their fingers entwined, not giving anyone the satisfaction of thinking their reactions had caused a rift between them.

She had insisted on staying with him that night. In fervor of tears and kisses, caresses and erotic whispers he told her that he loved her for the first time as she settled over him, enveloping him in her heat. She had frozen, palms on his chest, nails digging into the unforgiving tightness of his muscles. The sob that tore from her had frightened him, and he sat up – never breaking their contact – to wrap his strong arms around her. He had kissed the tears from her face as she whispered. "I love you, too, Severus." The crushing weight of terror that had filled his frozen chest melted, filling his body with a warmth he had never known before. They had made love the rest of the night, slowly and passionately. Every ounce of ardor between them glowed with no words to help.

She had been hopeful that the more people saw them together, the better it would be. People had to get sick of them, she told him, right? Months later, however, it was getting worse. She had moved into his home in Cokesworth when school had let out, after she had told him she didn't want to be apart from him anymore.

The following weeks, after a photograph appeared in _The Daily_ _Prophet_ 's gossip column of them carrying boxes into the house together, were filled with hate mail and howlers. Graffiti had been plastered on the walk-ways outside his home – "Mudblood filth." "Death Eater Lover." "Traitor." She pretended she didn't care, but he knew better. Strong as she was, she longed for approval. He knew that the outpour of hatred for the man she was in love with from people who had given her upmost respect in the past was damaging her spirit.

She had tried to get a job at the ministry in the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures Department. With her N.E.W.T. scores and fame from the war, she should have been a shoo in no matter where she applied; one by one all her resumes had come back rejected.

They both knew she wasn't getting a job or an apprenticeship because of their relationship even if they didn't speak of it. She decided to go to the University instead. She would be starting in a little over two weeks. So, he knew now was the time to do this. He could break away from her clean; she would have somewhere to go, she would be kept busy. She would have enough time for her friends to help her pick up the pieces before moving on with her life. He would be returning to teach, which would help keep his mind away from her. He would never move on, he wasn't naïve enough to think he'd ever find love again. She was young, and beautiful, and brilliant. Without his reputation holding her back, she would flourish and thrive like a wild forest. She would find love and continue on. He would just be a memory.

He watched her dance with the Weasley and Lovegood girls with sad, defeated eyes. His heart was tormented. He had wanted to watch her laugh and smile one more time. She had told him she would be home around midnight, he knew she'd never be able to wait that long. She would be home well before then, missing him. Outside of the times he purposely went away for a few hours at a time to plant doubt in her mind for his upcoming betrayal, they were hardly ever apart.

He left the pub; she never knew he had been there. On his way home, he stopped in Knockturn Alley. It had taken him a few weeks to find the right one, but the witch he settled on was pretty enough. She looked nothing like Hermione and everything like Lily Potter and he knew this would make her insecure. One more match on the pyre. He had planned everything to the nth degree, to leave no doubt in her mind that this was real when she sat back and went through it later. His stomach rolled with revulsion once again. As much as he knew he had to do this, a selfish part of him wanted to never leave her. If things were different, he'd marry her, make her a mother, grow old with her, and wait for her behind the veil so they could spend eternity in each other's arms.

* * *

 

"I want to make it clear to you witch," he snarled, after having gone over the plan for the evening one last time. "I will pay you twice what you're asking. Half now, and half will be waiting on the kitchen table for when it's done. You pretend you're mine. You pretend we've been seeing each other for months. Do you understand?"

The redhead nodded, mouth curving into a greedy smile as he tucked the galleons into her hand. He apparated them to his home. They slipped beneath the covers, naked. It felt all wrong have this tramp tucked up next to him in Hermione's spot and again his nerve wavered. The strange witch in his bed fell asleep quickly and he supposed she never really got to sleep at night in her line of work. He wouldn't sleep. It would probably be months before he ever slept well again. What felt like an eternity, he heard the front door open. He glanced blearily at the bedstead clock, it read eleven twenty-two. He had known too well she would be early. He nudged the witch awake and muttered. "It's show time." She stretched out like a cat and started kissing his neck and jaw, making little moaning noises in her throat. He added his own sounds, making the ruse realistic.

He heard Hermione creeping up the stairs, humming quietly to herself and his heart shattered. This was going to destroy her, but he knew in time she'd come to find it to be for the best. She slipped almost soundlessly into the room and the paid-for witch sat up, screaming and pulling the sheet with her naked form. "Who the hell are you?!" her annoying, screechy voice demanded. Hermione froze in utter shock, peering through the dark as Snape lazily put the witch away from him and stood.

"Hermione, you're early." He was a good actor, too many years as a double agent had left him with skills to rival the best.

"What do you mean – _she's early_?" The redheaded witch's voice was so annoying. He cringed away from her, pretending to be abashed as she continued. "You told me you left this bitch weeks ago?!"

Hermione still hadn't moved, the pale light streaming through the window was enough for him to see her face, and he knew she could see his. "Hermione," he made a point to ignore the witch, "please." He held out a hand and took a step towards her. "It's not what you think." Suddenly, he knew this was the worst idea of his life and the regrets slammed into him, robbing him of his voice. He had to fight for control.

A look of horror slowly slid across Hermione's face and she took a step back, a hand fluttering to grip her chest above her heart. Silent tears spilled over her lower lashes and cascaded down her face. "Get out," she whispered, her eyes spearing the redhead with daggers. "Leave now." Her voice was cold, resigned iciness clipped her tone.

The whore huffed and puffed for a moment before moving across the bed on her knees. She threw her arms around Severus and pouted. "But baaaby. You said you were done with this little girl." Snape smirked at her cruelly and rubbed her back, adding to the fabricated story.

He whispered, "I'll take care of it now," as he heard Hermione gasp.

"It's best you go, witch," he told her, patting her backside. He disentangled himself from her, doing his best to mask his disgust.

Hermione raised her wand at the witch who was invading everything she thought was good and whole, her hand shook with barely disguised torment. "I asked you to leave." Her voice was deadly calm, and Snape felt a thrill go through him as her power rippled through the air. Apparently, the prostitute wasn't as daft as she had seemed, because she grabbed her things and bolted; the magical electricity in the room terrifying her. "Floo me later, baby!" she cried over her shoulder. "When you get rid of the little girl, come find your real woman." He watched Hermione flinch with the insult.

"How long?" Hermione whispered when the whore was gone.

 _Never. I will never be with another witch, my love._ It was a struggle to form words. "Months," he lied, his voice bored.

"Why?" Her voice was strangled. He took another step towards her, menacingly.

"Protego!" Her voice came out laced with emotion as the shield charm burst between them. "You cannot touch me right now." Her tone was deflated; she sounded dead or dying. She raised one hand to her forehead rubbed, as if trying to make sense of what was happening. "Tell me why." It was a pleading whisper.

"I didn't mean for you to find out quite like this," he started, "but the answer is simple. I don't want you anymore." The falsehood had been practiced for weeks. The cold mask of dislike, the disgusted tone, the way he looked at her – it had all been practiced to perfection. The way his body reacted to the sobs that finally emanated from her, however, was automatic. He wanted to pull her in his arms, explain how foolish he was being. Apologize over and over again. Beg her forgiveness. He crossed his arms over his chest to prevent reaching for her again.

"You don't … want … me?" He understood her disbelief and anguish. Just yesterday he had made love to her, knowing it would be the last time he had her in his bed. He had made her come over and over again, taking his sweet, precious time, until she was mindlessly satisfied. Memorizing every inch of her body to commit to memory – it would be all he would have to survive on for the rest of his miserable existence.

"Severus, I don't understand. We love each other." Her voice was shaking with her devastation and her face was crumpled in hurt and confusion, tears still dripping off her chin.

"I don't love you." The deception in his tone was not betrayed even though his heart thrummed and his mind raced. _I'll love you forever._ Her strangled gasp of misery let him know his words had hit home. It nearly killed him that she believed him. "I never loved you." How could she believe him? He had done everything in his power to let her know for the past year that she was the only thing worthwhile in his world. The words hung in the air for eternity as she searched his face with her eyes. Looking for something...a lie? Proof he was speaking the truth? He didn't break his gaze, he kept it cold and distant; willing her to see the falsehoods as reality.

She finally broke. "Severus…no!" Her bewildered devastation and anguish combined to make his chest swell with horrified guilt. "No, you're lying to me! Tell me what is going on!" she insisted, and she removed the shield to throw herself at him. He pushed her away and the sobs that reverberated out of her felt like an earthquake in the chambers of his heart.

"Severus!" she tried to cling to him, her desperation to see through the lies made him nauseated. He hadn't expected her to react like this. She was the strongest person he knew. He expected anger, hate; he wanted her to punish him for his lies. The frantic pleas of anguish were ruining him. He spun from her in wild terror. He thought she would have stormed out by now, he hadn't been prepared for this. He grabbed his pants and pulled them on, all the while attempting to keep her off him as she sobbed his name, her love for him, and her disbelief again and again.

Once he was partially dressed he grabbed her by her shoulders and put his face millimeters from hers, the snarl deep and cutting, his voice cold and unforgiving. He had come too far to turn back now. "Stop acting like a heartsick child!" he growled, startling her sobs to soft hiccups of grief. "You knew as well as I did this would never last. We're too different. You're a _child,_ Hermione. It's been fun, the fucking has been satisfactory. It was never anything more than that. It's over now."

She pulled away from him, eyes overflowing again as she wrapped her arms tight around her middle. The hurt and shock on her face was mirrored with only a stony glare from him. He had used all her insecurities about their relationship against her - her youth, her inexperience...and a woman who looked a little too much like Lily Potter for comfort.  
  
The sobs that wracked her body were silent and convulsive now, and he was starting to worry that she was going to pass out. It took everything in him not to reach for her and envelop her in his arms. "I'm going to the school. I won't be back. Make sure you take everything with you. You have two weeks to get out."

"Severus," she whispered, "please, don't do this. Please tell me what is really going on." He looked at her as frigidly as he could, silently telling her it was really over. That he was not lying to her. Inside he begged her to look away from him. To accept what he was telling her. If she flung herself at him again, it would all be over for him. When she finally dropped her gaze, her shoulders hunching with defeat, it was all he could do not to break down himself. He gritted his teeth to keep the lump in his throat at bay.

"Good-bye, Hermione," he stated without feeling when he could talk again. He turned and, without a backward glance, forced himself to leave the room. A moment later, he heard her disintegrate into a deafening moan of abandonment that made his knees buckle on the stairs. He steeled himself on the banister and desperately tried to collect himself. He stopped in the kitchen on his way to gather his things, sending an owl to Potter to come collect her. He and the Weasley boy would take care of her. They always watched out for her, one thing to be grateful for. He grabbed his bag and cloak from the hall closet. The reality of what he had done was crashing down on him. He had to get out of there before he confessed the whole lie to her.

He paused in the doorway, gazing up the stairwell to the room that held the woman he loved so much he had just shattered their souls to give her freedom. Her sobs echoed through the house, rattling the chambers in his heart. In time, he would just be a memory. He hoped she would remember the good.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This has been almost ready for months and months. Finished it up quickly today and thought I'd get it posted. When this story is complete, it will be a short, six-chapter adventure. Hope you enjoy. ~LissaDream

 

**BETA LOVE: Snowblind12**

* * *

**Eight Months Later – May 2000**

“Blimey Hermione!” Harry whispered in an awed voice. “She’s something…” His voice trailed off as he took in the picture of his exhausted best friend holding a whimpering pink bundle. “You were amazing, love,” he told her gently, leaning over to press a kiss to her forehead.

Harry watched as a tired smile crossed her face. “Thanks Harry,” she whispered as the tiny infant’s whimpers turned into snuffling noises as she rooted at her mother’s breast. “Do you mind if I…?” Hermione left the question open as a Mediwitch approached the bed to give quiet instruction to the new mother.

“Do you want me to leave?” Harry asked her.

“No…no, I don’t.” The words were said quickly, and Harry could read the panic and total fear in her eyes. His stomach dropped. Gods, Hermione was never scared about anything. In the same breath, if he had found himself with their roles reversed, he knew he’d feel the same way.

“Then I’m staying put,” he told simply, pulling a chair to the side of the bed so he could sit next to her. Politely, he averted his eyes as the nurse continued to help mother and baby figure out a nursing latch. He was startled when there was a low hiss from Hermione and looked up to see the Mediwitch giving the young, curly haired woman a sympathetic smile.

“You’ll get it, dearie,” she told Hermione placatingly. “Little bit of practice and it will be as easy as breathing.”

He watched with no small amount of pride as Hermione gave a determined nod of her head, but his stomach flopped again when he watched her eyes trace the face of the wide-eyed infant at her breast. He could see wonder and love in the new mother’s face – there was no doubt of that – but he also saw a deep-seated pain that broke his soul, making his heart ache for her.

“She looks like him.” The words were said quietly and only after the Mediwitch had left the room a few minutes later. “Black hair, black eyes.” There was a hitch in her voice and Harry immediately reached for and took her hand in his, lacing his fingers through hers. “I still miss him, so much.” She sniffed, and Harry helplessly watched as large tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Hermione,” he implored softly, aching as she sniffed and gently ran a finger over the velvety skin of her newborn daughter. “You really should tell him.”

She stiffened instantly. “No. And you took an oath, Harry Potter!”

“Hermione – ”

“No, Harry.” She didn’t shout, that would have actually been better. Her words were numb, resigned. “He didn’t want me. He pretended for over a year that I was the center of his world and I believed him with every fiber of my being. I gave him every part of me, and he did his best to break me. He is as cruel as you and Ron always thought he was – I won’t let him do that to her.”

There was a moment of silence before Harry asked, “What’s her name, Mia?”

A soft smile crossed Hermione’s face. “Kyrie. Kyrie Jean Granger.”

* * *

**Three Years Later – May 2003**

“Mummy?” Three-year-old Kyrie pulled on the skirt of her mother’s robes. “Mummy, do you haffa go do scoo today?”

Hermione paused in her frantic nappy sack packing, it was woefully understocked. She turned to the child and cocked her head questioningly. “I do, Kiki. Why do you ask?”

“Kiki wanna ‘nuggle. Kiki misses Mummy.” Hermione’s heart dropped, and she quickly kneeled to the girl’s level to pull the child into her arms in a comforting hug. This was when she realized her daughter was burning up. “Oh, baby girl,” she murmured, immediately sliding her palms up the child’s back, under her pajama top. “Oh, sweetie. You’re not feeling good, are you?”

Kyrie was unable to answer, however. With absolutely no warning, she opened her mouth and proceeded to projectile vomit down Hermione’s front, effectively covering both of them in obvious remains from the previous night’s supper and warm, curdled milk from her morning sip cup. Hermione let out a startled squeak of surprise as Kyrie started sobbing hysterically.

“Shh love, shh,” Hermione hushed in a soothing voice tinged with a bit of panic. She had a huge exam today. One she could not miss. If she didn’t pass the exam, she wouldn’t pass the class. If she didn’t pass the class, she would have to retake it next term. This would put her a semester behind, and she was due to start field practice next term. She swallowed the growing lump in her throat as she dug for her wand and vanished the sick before carrying Kyrie to the floo.

She knew the little girl was going to be so upset when she left, but she didn’t have a choice. When this semester ended, she’d only have four terms of field practice and then she was done – a Healer, just as she wanted. She’d be able to get her own little house instead of the tiny, one-room flat they lived in. Kyrie would have a garden to play in. They could get a cat! All the things Hermione wanted to provide for her daughter.

“Hi Mum,” Hermione murmured.

Monica Granger let out a startled squeal as her daughter’s head appeared in her fireplace. “Would you be able to come here today? I know you don’t really like the floo, but Kiki just threw up and she has a fever and I think you’d both be more comfortable here where she has all her things.”

“I’ll be right through, dear,” Monica answered without hesitation.

When her mum arrived a few minutes later, Hermione had Kyrie in a cool bath after having administered a fever potion. “She’s sleepy and says her tummy still hurts. I switched her to some vitamin water to drink.” Hermione spoke quickly while she rinsed Kyrie’s black, silky curls. “Some dry toast later, if she asks for food.”

“Absolutely honey,” Monica answered with a sympathetic smile, “I’ve got this. I have taken care of sick babies before.” She gave a little wink. Hermione froze in the act of wrapping her child in a fluffy, yellow towel and her face crumpled, a hot tear streaking down her cheek. “Oh Hermione,” Monica reached out to smooth a fuzzy curl off her grown daughter’s forehead. “It will get better, four years down – two to go. You’ve got this.”

Kyrie was laying limply in her arms, her eyes closed as Hermione tenderly traced her spine over the terry cloth towel. She gave her mum a tremulous smile. “I know you’re right, it’s just extra hard on days like this.”

“I know, baby.”

“I’ve got to go, though,” she sighed and made to hand Kyrie to her grandmother.

“No Mummy!” Kyrie was instantly alert and wrapped herself tightly around Hermione. Hermione hugged her back snugly for a moment while making hurried promises in her tiny ear. “It’s okay, baby girl. Mummy’s going to come home early, but I have to go for a bit, Kiki. Gramma’s going to take super good care of you.”

“No Mummy!” The toddler started crying in earnest and Hermione squeezed her for another minute before she had to forcibly remove the child from her arms. She thanked her Mother again, trying not to react to her sick baby’s tears, and grabbed floo powder so she could get to University on time for her exam. The last thing she saw was her daughter screaming and reaching for her as she disappeared.

* * *

**Two Years Later – June 2005**

“To resident _Healer_ Hermione Granger! Congratulations on your job at Mungo’s!” Ron toasted, raising his cup of ale into the air.

“To Mummy!” Kyrie used both hands to raise her water cup and was obviously delighted as many of the adults around the table chuckled as they added their toast to the mix.

Hermione beamed around the long picnic tables, shouting her thanks above exclamations of congratulations and well wishes. The Weasleys and the multitude of Weasley wives and grandchildren that had been added to the family over the last six years were there; Harry and Ginny, Ron and Lavender, Bill and Fleur, Percy and Penelope, George and Angelina, and Charlie with his girlfriend from Romania all grinned back at her along with her parents. Even Hagrid and Professor McGonagall were there. Her family. She wouldn’t have been able to do it without them. She wouldn’t have even made it through a month after her relationship with Severus had ended if it hadn’t been for Ron and Harry. She owed the people surrounding her so much for everything they had given her so selflessly over the last six years.

She only had to meet each gaze to know that they knew exactly how grateful she was.

* * *

**Four Years Later – May 2009**

“Happy birthday dear Kiki! Happy birthday to you!” Kyrie grinned at the small gathering of family around the kitchen table in their small cottage home. She was so excited to be turning nine today! She was a big girl, now. She watched Uncle Harry and Auntie Ginny with their arms around each other while her cousins, James and Al, grinned at her – they were obviously excited for cake.

Then her mum stood, all by herself, smiling and singing with shining eyes. Kyrie’s gaze slid past her mum to Uncle Ron and Auntie Lavender and their two kids, Hugo and Rose. She didn’t realize the smile slipped from her lips as she trained her gaze back on her mum, taking in again how she stood alone. Realizing, not for the first time, that her mummy didn’t have a husband and that she didn’t have any siblings.

Auntie Ginny was pregnant again. Auntie Lavender had been whinging to Uncle Ron during dinner that she wanted another baby. She closed her eyes and impolitely made her wish loud and clear for everyone to hear. “I wish my mummy would find my daddy and have another baby,” she said before blowing out the candles.

When she opened her eyes, the smug grin she’d had in place melted at the look of shock on her mother’s face while the other four adults in the room were silent with worried expressions. Aunt Ginny took charge. “Let’s get this cake cut, yeah?”

Kyrie watched as her mum seemed to shake off her surprise and agreed with her aunt. Kyrie’s desperate declaration was put aside as the cake was cut and passed out and presents were opened. The new nine-year-old all but forgot her wish in the excitement of her birthday. It wasn’t until later, when her mum was tucking her into bed, that she was reminded.

“Kiki, love,” Hermione started hesitantly. “You know mummy can’t have another baby with your father, right?”

Kyrie cocked her head to the side. “Why not?”

“Because… because your father isn’t a part of our lives, Kyrie,” she said softly.

“Why not?” the little girl repeated stubbornly before her expression darkened. “It’s not fair. Al and James have a mummy and a daddy; Rose and Hugo have a mummy and a daddy. So why not me? Where’s my daddy? Why can’t I have a brother or sister? It’s not fair!”

Hermione was quiet for a long, long time. So long that Kyrie almost fell asleep to the soothing motions of her mother’s hands in her silky curls. “Your father is a good man, Kyrie. A brave man. Remember I told you how he fought in the war? Was a spy? Risked his life?”

“Yes, mummy,” Kyrie whispered in reply.

“I loved your father very much,” her mother told her. “He couldn’t accept my love, though. He didn’t love me back the same. We went our separate ways before I realized you were growing in my tummy.”

There was another stretch of silence before Kyrie whispered. “He didn’t come back when you told him about me? He didn’t want me?”

Hermione’s hands stilled in Kyrie’s hair and the girl tipped her head back to look at her mother. “No, Kiki,” she answered in a suspiciously raspy voice. “That’s not it, honey.” Her fingers smoothed ringlets out of Kyrie’s eyes. “I never told him about you, love.”  
  
Kyrie sat up, hurt and confusion marring her delicate features. “What? Why not?!”

Hermione’s hands fluttered as if she didn’t know what to do with them now that they were paining comforting patterns in her daughter’s hair. “The way… the way things ended with your father and I were not good. I couldn’t… I couldn’t face him. I always meant to tell him eventually, but then too much time passed…”

Kyrie watched her mother’s face carefully, and instantly felt terrible when a lone tear trickled down one cheek. “It’s okay, mum. Don’t cry!” she exclaimed, launching herself into Hermione’s arms.

Her mother held her tightly and pressed kisses to the top of her head. “I love you Kyrie. When you’re older, I’ll tell you everything. I promise. For now, though…it’s just you and me, love. I’ve got you, you’ve got me. We’ll be fine together. Alright?”

“Alright, mum,” Kyrie was feeling sleepy. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, darling.”

* * *

**Two Years Later – September 2011**

“Remember what we talk about with Professor Snape?” Hermione asked Kyrie quietly.

“That he doesn’t know he’s my dad, but Professor McGonagall knows you’re coming tonight to talk to him,” Kyrie answered promptly. “I know, mum. We’ve talked about this a million times over the last few weeks. I know he never knew about me, I know you’re worried about how he’s going to react. But it’s okay, I’m going to be fine. If he doesn’t want to be my dad, then I’ve got Uncle Harry and Uncle Ron – they’ve always been there for me. I don’t _need_ Professor Snape.”

Hermione had to bite the insides of her lips for a moment to keep from bursting into tears. Her brave daughter was putting up quite the front, but Hermione saw through her blasé words. She knew the girl was acutely terrified that she was going to see her father for the first time that night. She also knew that Kyrie wanted nothing more in the world then for Severus Snape to love her. “I love you, Kiki,” she murmured, dropping a kiss to the top of her daughter’s ebony curls.

“Love you too, mum,” she answered, her voice trembling a bit. She flung herself into Hermione’s arms and squeezed tightly.

“You’re gonna be great, Keek!” Ron gave her a little tickle behind one ear while Harry squatted down a bit to look her in the eye.

“Write often, kiddo,” he told his niece. “We love you!”

“Love you too,” she told both Ron and Harry as they sandwiched her in a hug.

The trio watched the first child born between the three of them board the scarlet train with forced smiles that didn’t quite reach their eyes.

“Gryffindor?” Ron asked.

“Ravenclaw,” Harry guessed quickly.

“Slytherin,” Hermione stated flatly. “That girl is Slytherin. Through and through.”

* * *

“Kyrie Granger!” Pomona Sprout called. Severus Snape was so badly startled at the sound of the surname he had just heard, he uncharacteristically tipped his goblet over causing many sets of eyes to land on him.

He didn’t notice a single pair of them, however. He absent-mindedly pointed his wand at the puddle of pumpkin juice as his gaze scanned the faces of the first years in fascination, looking for the child. He hadn’t heard the name Granger in quite a few years. His ability to follow anything to do with Hermione Granger had ended forever ago as she had dropped out of the papers almost completely, shortly after he so brutally ended their relationship.

He’d had no idea she had a child, let alone a child of Hogwarts age. Potter’s first brat wouldn’t be starting until the following year. _Had she married – ? No. If she had the child wouldn’t be Granger, now, would she?_ It was odd for him to not have heard through the forever-grinding Hogwarts rumor mill that she had a child. He’d heard about every single birth of Ginny Potter and Lavender Weasley – why not the child of Hermione Granger?

He wracked his brain; their affair had ended… _How long ago now? Thirteen…no, twelve…_ Suddenly, his eyes locked on the emerging child in question before they widened in horror. _Almost twelve years ago…_

He felt a sickening wave of ice-cold wash over him as he watched Kyrie Granger step confidently forward from the gaggle of new comers. The first thing that came to Severus’ mind was that the girl was the spitting image of her mother. He might have laughed as he remembered Hermione Granger looking almost the same at her own Sorting – her chin thrust out and her slightly upturned nose in the air, but the sick feeling of dread that roiled through his stomach prevented any mirth. His heartrate sped alarmingly as he took in the only two differences he could see that separated her from her mother – silky, jet black curls and ebony colored eyes.

Merlin.

Those were his eyes.

The guilt for what he had done all those many years ago – the guilt that never went away, that always stayed in the darkest caverns of his heart and mind – rose so alarmingly he felt dizzy with it.

_What have you done?_

It was a question he had asked himself so many times over the long, lonely years. This time, however, it was backed with such fierceness that he felt himself start to lose his breath. His eyes darted down the line of his co-workers and he was startled to see Headmistresses Minerva McGonagall watching him with sharp, accusing eyes.  
  
Her glare confirmed his fear and his eyes swiveled back to the petite little girl and he was frozen with such a profound shock he was sure he looked like a marble statue. The girl bounced onto the three-legged stool and looked from the audience of students, to Professor Sprout, to the staff table. The Sorting Hat was placed onto her head. He felt her obsidian eyes run over his face and catch his stare for a split second before the hat slipped past her forehead and landed on her button nose. Those eyes unfroze him, causing a sharp tremor to roll through his body.

Those were _his_ eyes.

“SLYTHERIN!” the hat shouted.

That was his _daughter_.

* * *

Severus was still reeling from the shock of seeing the girl who he knew in his gut must be his daughter but was at a complete loss as how to react to it. Did he contact Hermione? Did he talk to the girl personally? Did _she_ know that he was her father? Was he _really_ her father? The knock on the door to his quarters startled him. It was late; almost ten o’clock.

“Who the hell?” he muttered as he set his third glass of fire whiskey down on the end table and pushed himself to stand. He wasn’t sure what to expect, however, pulling the door open to find Hermione Granger standing there nervously ringing her hands was not it. A loud whoosh of air left him as he took a startled step back. He felt as though he had just walked through a ghost. He stared stupidly at her for a full minute before she broke the silence.

“Hello Severus,” her voice was shaking, “might I come in?”


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So for some unknown reason, this story is pretty quickly moving right along. I'm about 1/3 of the way done with chapter four, but I will need to spend some time on chapters 22 and 23 of WNF as Snow and I have a HUGE following of readers waiting for more over there, as well. I'll work on this around WNF as I can. Now that I know exactly where it's going, I can't imagine I won't have it finished within the next couple of weeks. Give Snow love, she's an amazing co-writer even if she's only acting BETA on this piece. xxxx ~Lissa

**BETA love: Snowblind12**

* * *

Severus blinked once before standing aside and gesturing for her to enter. It was all he could do to contain the flood of emotions at the sight of her. He felt a flush of warmth creep up is neck and his breath quickened. He hadn’t seen this woman in just over twelve years. It was shocking that all these years later the mere sight of her shook him to his core. She had aged like a fine wine. Her frame was leaner, her face more angular, and her hair was longer and more tamed. She looked incredible. Beyond incredible.

And bollocks if he wasn’t still irrevocably in love with her.

He closed the door carefully, trying to hide the way he was reacting to her presence. It was too much – much too much. His mind was still shattered from the discovery of a fact that he was now sure of – as evidenced by Hermione’s presence. This appearance of the woman who had haunted his every dream for over a decade only added to the confusion and emotion of the day.

He shook his head minutely, trying to clear his thoughts, before he turned to her. “Would you like to sit down, Missus…?” He trailed off. It was underhanded of him, but he had to know if she was married. Perhaps Kyrie had her maiden name because she wasn’t her husband’s child.

Hermione paused before taking the seat he indicated. “I never married, Severus,” she said quietly. “It’s still Miss Granger. Although, if you’d like to get technical, you could call me Healer Granger.”

That caused his brows to rise as he retook his seat. “Congratulations,” he said softly. “When?”

“I started my residency in 2005,” she answered. “I finished it in 2009.”

“With a child? You maintained that schedule with a child?” His stomach dropped, he couldn’t imagine how difficult her life had been since he left her.

Since he left her to save her – and instead saddled her with an unexpected pregnancy.

Since he broke both of their hearts.

Hermione’s gaze stayed steadfastly focused on the fire crackling in the hearth they sat before. Her body language screamed her discomfort. Her fingers clenched on her knees so tightly her knuckles were white, and her shoulders were hunched. “I had a lot of help,” she murmured finally.

Of course, she had help. Her parents, the Weasleys, Potter. None of them would have ever let her down. Not like he had.

The silence stretched again, and Snape poured his fourth glass of firewhiskey to the brim before raising it and taking several deep gulps. He silently summoned another glass and poured a couple inches of the amber liquid into the bottom of it before handing it over to her. He watched her small hand reach out for it tentatively, despairing at the way she purposefully didn’t let their fingers meet.

Snape knew he wouldn’t insult her by asking why she hadn’t told him about their daughter. With what he had done to her – no matter how false it had been – he would have never told him, either. “What is she like?”

“Brilliant. Resourceful. Moody. Hot tempered. Brave…cunning.” For the first time since arriving at his door, her shoulders relaxed, and a small smirk crossed her face. She still hadn’t met his eyes, though. “She’s a Slytherin through and through. I had no doubt she would be Sorted into your House.”

A deep swell of pride filled Snape’s chest and he hastily brought his glass to his lips to help wash away the lump in his throat.

Hermione started again after a long pause, “I know –” she broke herself off. “I know that I should have told you, but I just…I couldn’t. I couldn’t see you again. Not –” She stopped abruptly before a brittle laugh left her. “Not after you broke my heart the way you did.”

Her voice was hard, and he couldn’t stop the wince. If only she knew how shattered his own heart was – would she forgive him? He had regretted what he had done from the moment it had happened. That feeling had intensified tenfold since the sudden and unexpected appearance of his daughter. His daughter. The daughter that was kept from him for twelve years. He felt anger rise in him like the waves upon the sand. He had no right to be angry, though, did he?

He wanted to scream his upset at her.

He wanted to break into tears.

More than anything, though, more than anything…he wanted to turn back the clock.

He wanted to go back to that night and take it all back.

Tell her the truth.

To not leave her in that hysterical heap on his bedroom floor.

She had been _pregnant_.

With his _daughter!_

_He had a daughter._

Calmly he replied, “I understand.”

She looked at him then, and amber eyes met black for the first time in twelve years. “Do you?” she whispered.

 _No, but I will try to._ “Yes.”

“Oh.” She ripped her eyes away from him and he realized she was sinking back in time just as he was….

**_It had been a week, and Severus had barely slept. He hadn’t realized how he had come to depend upon her warmth and comfort in his bed. He missed her…fiercely. He wondered what she was doing; he wondered if she was okay. Neither of her dunderheaded friends had contacted him, which he found odd. He had expected them to break his door down. Threaten him with castration and death. The fact that they hadn’t turned up yet was puzzling._ **

_She knew she had terrified her friends. They had found her in a limp mess of hysterics when they had come for her. She had barely taken in their words. Snape had sent for them – he had asked them to come. This niggled something in the back of her mind, something she couldn’t quite grasp. She was utterly destroyed. He had shattered her into a million pieces._

_Days later, and the boys were still trying to coax her out of bed at all hours of the day. She knew she was being silly, life had to go on, but she was so heartbroken she was positively sick with it. The emotional sickness had turned into physical sickness._  
  
_Almost two weeks later, they found her in her en suite bathroom of her room at Grimmauld Place, vomiting spectacularly into the toilet. When she had told them she was pregnant – they were furious. They called Snape every horrible name under the sun and threatened to find him and murder him. She had forced them to take wand oaths never to reveal her condition._

**_Snape couldn’t believe almost a year had passed. It felt like only yesterday he had left her. He missed her more with every day. He had tried so many times to move on. He had had a couple of dates, of which ended with the witch screaming obscenities at him for being a total arse. He had tried for a couple of one-night stands, hoping that meeting his physical needs would help him forget her. He couldn’t even get it up – nothing aroused him…_ **

**_…until her. The dainty little thing with long, unruly brunette hair. They had met in a Muggle pub. It was obvious she was as broken as he. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend it was her. He did for a time. Allowed her to take him to her flat. Allowed her to undress him, to bring him to full attention. To wrap her lips around his cock…_ **

**_But when black eyes met brilliant blue instead of wide doe-like orbs, he had jerked away from her, sputtering his apologies. Telling her he couldn’t do this – that she wasn’t the one he wanted. She had watched him go silently. He tried to forget it had ever happened._ **

_Ronald was down on one knee in front of her, holding out a box that had a small, solitaire diamond on a white gold band. Had she heard him correctly? She was holding a seven-month-old Kyrie in her arms, there was milk spit-up in her hair, and she hadn’t showered for three days as finals had just ended for the term. He couldn’t be serious, could he?_

_Hermione looked at her sweet, well-meaning best friend for a solid minute before bursting into tears._

_“Hermione…oh, Hermione!” Ron let the ring box fall from his hand as he leapt to his feet to wrap her and her daughter into his long, strong arms. “I didn’t mean to make you cry. Are you alright?”_

_She clung to him and sobbed all the harder, which caused her daughter to start crying, as well. Hermione pulled away from Ron to sooth Kyrie. Once the little girl had stopped crying and Hermione was able to distract the child with some toys upon the floor, she returned to him and cupped his face in both of her hands._

_“Thank you,” she whispered with utter sincerity. “I love you for what you’re trying to do, but Ron, I want you to be happy and in love with your wife. I want you to have a family all of your own. I’m so broken, Ron, we’d never be happy. Not the way you deserve to be.”_

_Ron covered her hands with his own before he laced their fingers together and brought them to his lips and to place a gentle kiss on her knuckles. “I don’t know about that,” he murmured before touching his forehead to hers. “You’re already my family. It might not be terribly romantic, what we have, but it’s a foundation built on years of amazing friendship.” The words were sweet and caused more tears to slide down Hermione’s cheeks. At the same time, she felt a bit of a rising panic in her chest. He was serious; he had thought about this. It wasn’t some rash offer done out of pity for her. Before she could speak, he continued._

_“I would do anything to see you happy, Mia.” Ron pressed another kiss to her forehead. Her anxiety only increased as he made to kiss her lips. She turned her head, causing the buss to fall onto her cheek. She leaned into him to lessen the rejection, but she knew that he knew what it meant. His voice was softer and more understanding when he spoke again. “I would do my best to be a good husband to you, Hermione, and a good father to Kiki.”_

_Hermione wrapped her arms tightly around one of her best friends in the world and clung on silently. She breathed a slow, controlled sigh of relief when his arms pulled her closer to his chest. “You have…absolutely no idea how much your words mean to me, Ron,” she whispered after a time. “And you’re right, you would be an amazing father and a wonderful husband…just not for me.” She pulled away and felt awful to find a small frown on his face and confusion in his eyes._

_“I love you, Ron. I love you so much, but I’m in love with **him**. I am not over him…even after all these months. I don’t know if I will **ever** be over him. That would never, ever be fair to you.” She took a deep breath and cut him off when he made to protest. “I want you to find a love you can’t live without. I want you to have a family all of your own. I will **always** be your family, Ron, but you and I both know that I am not the witch you’re supposed to marry.”_

_Her heart lightened when understanding lit in his eyes. The look of relief on his face almost made her cry again, but she was so grateful that he understood what she was saying and wasn’t offended that she was able to continue with no tears. “It’s because I love you and I want you to be happy that I have to tell you no, I cannot marry you.”_

_“You’re right,” Ron murmured and gave her a rueful smile. “But you already know that you’re right, you brilliant witch.” She nodded and laughed gently along with him before allowing him to pull her into another tight embrace._

_She had the most amazing friends._

**_He resigned himself to never getting over her. In the beginning he had thought that he would. Hell, he had gotten over Lily – right?_**  
  
**_He had been so wrong._**

**_Instead he threw himself into his Potions research. If he wasn’t teaching or grading or fulfilling his duties as a Hogwarts professor, he was researching. He had published dozens upon dozens of articles. He had patented twenty new potions in the last seven years. Anything to keep his mind off of her. Anything to fill the hole in his heart._ **

**_Hermione Granger had truly ruined him. He couldn’t even have meaningless sex anymore._ **

**_And it was all his fault._ **

_She vowed she wouldn’t date anymore as she glanced up at Charlie to find him watching her sadly. They had been dating for almost six months. He wanted to move things to the next level and she just…couldn’t. Every time she had tried to sleep with a man in the last ten years, it had gone bad. She was tired of hurting good men. Snape had ruined her. It appeared he would be her one and only._

_“Take care of yourself, Hermione,” Charlie told her gently._

_“You too, Charlie,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”_

_“Shh,” he murmured before kissing her forehead. “I just wish you could be happy, Hermione. It’s not like I hadn’t been warned. You told me yourself that you didn’t think this was a good idea.”_

_“I care about you so much,” Hermione answered brokenly. “I just…can’t.”_

_“Kyrie’s dad did a number on you, I get it.” Charlie’s voice was sad. He knew who her daughter’s father was but was unable to say his name. Seeing him so hurt, Hermione found herself grateful that she never allowed the men she tried to date access to her daughter as a surrogate father-figure. How many times would she have broken Kyrie’s heart the same way she had hurt Charlie…? Lee Jordan…? Theo Nott…?_

_Charlie Weasley had been the worst of the three, though. He had fallen in love with her, had left a long-term girlfriend for her, even though she had told him not to. However, he wouldn’t take no for an answer, and she had finally decided to try. He **should** have been perfect; he had made her feel so warm and alive again. He already loved Kyrie as a surrogate niece; he would have made a wonderful father for the girl. When it had come down to it, however; when it had been time to take that next step – Hermione had been unable to be intimate with Charlie. Only Severus was Kyrie’s father. Only Severus was her lover. Only him. Forever him.  _

_Severus Snape had truly broken her beyond repair._

When they came back to themselves, they both glanced at each other in embarrassment. It was Severus who broke the silence. “Does she know?”

“She does.”

“What must she think of me?” he murmured, almost to himself. Snape wanted to scream at her but kept his voice calm. If he she had just _told_ him…he would have...

_What?_

_What would you have done?_

_Crawled back to her?_

_She would never have had you back._

“She knows the truth, Severus,” Hermione said softly. He whipped his face to hers, glaring alarmingly.

Hermione gulped and understood his upset quickly. “No. Not _that_ truth. She knows that we had a bad break and that I chose to not tell you of her existence. That’s the truth she knows. It’s up to you what you tell her now.”

There was a moment of silence as he calmed, his expression taking on a guilty look. “Well, if that’s all, then.” He stood, but Hermione remained resolutely planted in her chair.

“There’s one more thing,” she stated firmly, her tone caused him to retake his seat.

“And what is that?” he was finding his old snark and cool attitude as the shock of the evening faded. It rose defensively at the harsh look on her face, she was going to scold him or threaten him. He was right.

“If you hurt her – I will kill you.” It was a statement of fact.

He couldn’t stop his anger. He bolted to his feet in an achingly nostalgic billow of robes as a wave of rage crashed around him. “How dare you imply that I would hurt her! She’s my daughter for Merlin’s sake! I love her, and I don’t even know her! You’ve kept her from me for almost twelve years!”

“Do you love her like you loved me?!” Hermione wasn’t able to stop her own tumultuous feelings from breaking through. “Like you l-loved m-e?!” she repeated and hated the way her voice broke over the words the second time. “I kept her from you because I couldn’t let you do to her what you did to me! If I could keep you from her still, I would! I would – because you destroyed me! And if you do it to her, if you destroy her like you did me, _I will kill you_!”

Severus took a step back in horror. He felt the tears that careened down her face like icicles piercing through his heart. He had been so very wrong. The guilt he had lived with for years intensified beyond his ability to cope with it. He drew the flat of his palm down his face as he spun away from her and held it covering his mouth as he tried to stifle his own pain. She hadn’t moved on either, had she? She was bitter and cold and the tears on her cheeks told him that she wasn’t lying to him. He had destroyed her.

How could he ever forgive himself? She had been his everything – he had thought he was doing the right thing. He had lived with the ache of his love for her every day for twelve miserable years. Believing that she had moved on, found love, and was happy had been the only thing that had kept him going. He couldn’t have been more delusional, apparently.

Finding out that she had done none of those things – but instead had raised his daughter in a lonely, solitary existence – crushed his already broken heart. He steeled himself and tried to regather some calm indifference. She would never believe him if he told her what was going through his mind. If he broke down and told her the truth, she would laugh at him and call him a liar. She would never, ever trust him again. He knew this because if their roles were reversed, he would never be able to believe her either.

He decided quickly that he wouldn’t even try. He would, however, endeavor to be the best father to that little girl that he could be. He would try to make up for the years he missed. He could do this for Hermione, he could do this for Kyrie, and he could do this for himself.

“I will not hurt her, Miss Granger,” he said in a cool tone. “I will get to know her. I will be her teacher and I will do my best to be a good father to her.”

He turned back to her to find her skeptical expression and had to hold back a sneer of frustrated hurt. “I would have done the same thing all those years ago, if you had just told me.”

He didn’t blame her for the confusion that flickered across her features. She had lived the last decade plus thinking he had never cared for her. She had believed him when he had told her he never loved her. Merlin…if she only knew. They could have been so very, very happy. They could have raised their daughter together. Maybe they would have married. Maybe they would have had more children.

He had ruined _everything_.

He deserved the pain that was filling his chest.

“I am going to retire. I have a long week ahead of me. Let me see you out.”

Her dumfounded expression did not change, and it seemed she was unable to speak because she followed him blindly across the room. He told her goodnight and she answered in turn. Her bewildered eyes were still searching his face as he closed the door. The look she left him with was branded into his mind for the rest of the night as, for the first time since his childhood, Severus cried himself to sleep.


End file.
